


All of our Ghosts

by oneofthreenerds



Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-04-28 02:12:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14439267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneofthreenerds/pseuds/oneofthreenerds
Summary: It was just little things at first. A wrinkled nose, an eye-roll.Mitch didn’t pay it any mind. He had a real boyfriend for the first time in years, and he was so happy. Nothing would take that away from him.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a friend. Proud of you, sunshine. Happy one year

It was just little things at first. A wrinkled nose, an eye-roll.

Mitch didn’t pay it any mind. He had a real boyfriend for the first time in years, and he was so happy. Nothing would take that away from him.

So maybe Misha didn’t completely agree with his style all the time, but that was okay. It was healthy to disagree on some things. It meant that one of them wasn’t a complete doormat.

Scott noticed it, brought it up to him, but Mitch brushed him off. Scott had always been overdramatic about his relationships, too overprotective for his own good.

Then the comments started.

“Those shoes, really? What about the brown ones? Those look better, I think.”

“Oh, I don’t like that. Wear the other coat instead.”

Mitch was okay with it, really. He wanted to make Misha happy, and if something as simple as a different outfit made him happy, then it was worth it.

Scott was silent, which was a relief. Mitch really didn’t want to fight with him. Both boys were important to him; he needed both of them in his life.

Then Misha started coming over more.

Scott, ever the angel, didn’t want to encroach on their couple time, so he made himself scarce. Mitch didn’t know for sure where he went: maybe Kirstie’s, maybe the studio, maybe just driving around town.

Mitch missed him, but whenever he thought too long about it, got pulled too out of the moment, Misha would bring him back. Mitch was okay with that. After all, it was polite to be in the moment with who he was with in person and Misha was his boyfriend and he was more than happy to spend time with him.

Anyway, it seemed that Scott had some new best friends in Mark and Mason. Or maybe they were together. That thought made something in Mitch’s heart twinge, but he had Misha. That ship had sailed and he was happy now.

Then the requests started.

“Hey, I need to fly out to New York in a couple weeks. Could you book me a ticket, please?”

“Baby, can I pick out your clothes today?”

“We’re gonna go out to eat with my parents tomorrow, okay?”

As much as Mitch tried to be okay with this development, something about it felt off. He wanted Misha around on trips, would gladly pay for two first class tickets to Berlin or the Bahamas or wherever on vacation, but it was weird to be buying Misha tickets for himself, right? It was just money, though. He could make that back.

He took pride in how he looked, and as much as he was okay with Misha putting in opinions, he wasn’t sure if he wanted Misha to be picking out his outfits entirely.

And he was okay with hanging out with Misha’s parents, really, but Misha didn’t seem to understand the way he needed peace and privacy. Scott would have- no. He couldn’t think about Scott. He hadn’t talked to Scott in days, hadn’t seen him in weeks outside of work. He couldn’t even think of the last time he’d hugged him. But he couldn’t afford to think about Scott. He’d start crying and Misha would be suspicious and that wasn’t a situation he ever wanted to touch.

He didn’t notice when he stopped pushing back.

An outfit on his bed after his shower became the norm. He’d just put it on and went to do whatever he had to do. Even if he had no plans, he didn’t lounge around in sweats and hoodies anymore. Wasn’t allowed to.

Social time became mandatory. It didn’t matter if he wanted to go or not, he had to be there. And with that came group vacations, to some of his favourite places, like New York and Paris, but also so many trips to the beach and to the tropics. Mitch hated the beach, but Misha liked it, so they went. And he paid for them.

He hardly questioned it the first time Misha hit him.

He’d been talking back. He didn’t even remember what it was, specifically. Something about being tired and not wanting to go out. But Misha had gotten tired of his whining and had slapped him.

It hurt. His cheek stung and it brought tears to his eyes. He remembered bringing a hand up over his cheek, feeling the warm flush from the impact. Misha apologised, bought him flowers, but he’d deserved it. His momma had raised him better than to talk back. He just needed a reminder.

It got a little better after that.

Mitch let Misha take charge. If Misha wanted to go out, he’d put on a smile and go. If Misha wanted to buy yet another expensive thing, he handed over his credit card without question. He made sure Misha okayed anything before he did it.

But then it got worse again. Something changed.

He wasn’t being allowed to think for himself. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe, his world was crumbling right in front of him and _he couldn’t do anything_.

He scrolled through Instagram, brightness all the way down so he wouldn’t disturb Misha. His eye caught a fanart of him and Scott, surrounded by all their achievements in Pentatonix and Superfruit.

Scott. Scott could help him. He hadn’t talked to Scott in so long, not for real, but he would help.

He slid out of bed silently, checking to make sure he wouldn’t wake Misha, and slipped out the door.

He almost grabbed his keys, but he couldn’t take his car, could he? The sound of the garage opening would definitely wake Misha up. He wasn’t sure if Misha was still tracking his credit card, either, so it was probably just safer to walk.

He cracked open the front door, wincing at the loud creak. He listened desperately for any sign of movement from the bedroom. Nothing came and he closed the door gently behind him, starting the trek to Scott’s house.

He didn’t realise the walk would be this this long. He’d never made this trip before, and now here he was here walking in the dark, with no coat, and only vague ideas of the route.

Who knew if Scott was even awake, or at home for that matter. What if he got there and he didn’t come to the door. Mitch paused in the middle of the street, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. He couldn’t go back, though. What if he woke him up? Then he’d know Mitch was wandering around on his own without permission and- Mitch didn’t want to think about what would happen.

Maybe it would be better to go back. Misha would be angry but he’d be even angrier if he woke in the morning and Mitch wasn’t there.

But.

He shouldn’t be scared. That was why he was out here in the middle of the night.

Scott would help him, and everything would be okay.

Mitch nodded to himself, forcing himself to move forward again.

Everything would be okay.

 


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitch ends up at Scott's house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is so late. I wasn't even planning on writing a second part and by the time that I decided to, exams and life started. So here it is. Enjoy!

There were a lot of things that Scott expected in the middle of the night. For example, another glass of wine or a good fuck. He could honestly say that he didn’t expect to hear a knock on his door at 2 in the morning. 

He briefly considered ignoring it and just going to bed, but if someone was at his door this late, it was probably important. 

He trudged over to the foyer and threw open the door, ready to good-naturedly roll his eyes at Mark or Nicole.

But instead, he was greeted with the sight of a shivering Mitch. 

Looking back, it probably wasn’t one of his best moments. He had just stood there staring at the figure on his step. He hadn’t spoken to Mitch outside of the band for months. The last time he’d tried, Mitch had yelled at him for mentioning Misha. He’d taken the hint for what it was and stopped bringing him up, but after that, Mitch pretty much all but pulled away completely. 

Scott distinctly remembered Austin coming up to him and asking him to check on Mitch, because he hadn’t spoken to him in ages. Scott had just looked back at him helplessly, unable to tell him that he hadn’t seen him in longer.

He was jolted out of this thoughts when Mitch started stuttering out an apology and stepped back off the step. 

“No, wait, Mitch. Come in.” He held the door open wider. Mitch seemed to hesitate, weight still shifted back. “You didn’t wake me up or anything. C’mon.” 

Mitch glanced over his shoulder and then into the foyer behind Scott, apparently weighing his options, before silently slipping past Scott and into the house. 

“Feel free to leave your shoes on. I have slippers if you want those. Uh, the living room is right through here. Make yourself comfortable. Do you want water or anything? I have orange juice and milk, too.”

Scott fidgeted with his hands and watched as Mitch perched on the edge of a couch, back still ramrod straight. 

“Water is fine, please, if it’s no trouble.”

“Of course. I’ll get you some. Just… just stay there.” He hurried to the kitchen to fill up a glass, mind racing. Why was Mitch here, out of the blue, after so long? What happened? 

He grabbed a coaster from the dining room on his way back, resting both on the coffee table in front of Mitch. He settled across from him on the other couch, not sure if Mitch would be okay with him any closer. 

Mitch seemed to blink awake, focusing on Scott’s face but quickly glancing away and refocusing on the water in front of him. 

“You okay, Mitchy?” Mitch flinched at the nickname. “Sorry. Mitch. You okay, Mitch?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“Any particular reason you’re at my house at two in the morning?”

“Oh. Is it that late? I’m sorry. I’ll go.” Mitch stood up, glancing around.

“No, Mitch. That’s not what I meant. You’re always welcome here. Why are you out so late?”

“I-” Mitch’s eyes filled with tears. “Help.”

Scott instinctively started to reach out, before bringing his hands back to his lap. “Of course, what do you need?”

“Can- can I stay here tonight?”

“Of course. Do you want to talk about anything?” Scott waited, breath caught in his throat. 

“I’m sorry.” Mitch twisted the edge of his shirt in his hands; Scott longed to wrap him up and hold him forever. 

“It’s okay.” 

“It’s not. You’re being so nice and I-”

“It’s okay, Mitch. I won’t force you to talk more than you want to. You’re my best friend. I just want what’s best for you.”

The tears spilled down Mitch’s cheeks, but he brushed them away quickly. “Thank you. I don’t- thank you.”

Scott let the familiar teasing smirk cross his face. “You don’t thank me? Why, Mitchell, that’s not very nice.”

“Stoooooop.” Mitch finally started to smile, albeit a shaky one. “You knew what I meant.”

“Humph. I give you my hard earned water, and this is how you repay me? I had to walk all the way to the kitchen for that, you know.”

“I get it, I get it. You’re perfect.”

“That’s better.” 

It was so easy to slip back into the usual banter with Mitch, to try to tease him until he cheered up. Scott missed this. He missed Mitch.

As Scott sat in thought, he noticed Mitch trying to hold back a yawn.

“Oh, shit, it’s late. The guest room is always set up so it’s all ready for you. Do you need pyjamas or anything?”

“If that’s possible?”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course. I probably even have some of your old sweats lying around. I’ll show you the guest room?”

He made sure to point out other rooms Mitch might need, stopping in front of the guest room. “I’ll go grab something for you to sleep in, so go ahead and get comfortable in here.” He waited for Mitch’s nod before quickly making his way to his own room, rifling through his clothes to find something that would hopefully fit Mitch.

He couldn’t find anything of Mitch’s in his drawer so he grabbed a random pair of clean sweats and a t-shirt. When he got back to the guest room, he found Mitch standing in the middle of the room, looking around blankly.

He knocked gently on the doorframe. “Hey, Mitch.” 

Mitch spun around, eyes falling onto the clothes Scott held. Scott held them out for him, making sure he had a stable hold on them before letting go. 

“I’m sorry if they’re a little big; I couldn’t find anything of yours.”

“That’s all right. Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Scott took a step back. “If you need anything at all, just come find me.”

Scott waited for Mitch’s confirmation and turned back to his room. He had a lot to think about tonight. He should just go straight to bed instead of staying up and watching a movie like he’d planned.

No more than ten minutes later, however, the door to his room cracked open. 

“Mitch?”

Mitch looked nervous in the faint light coming from the window. “Could I stay in here tonight, please?”

Scott immediately rolled over, easily falling back into the long-disused ritual of sharing a bed with Mitch. “Of course. Come here.”

Mitch slid into the bed, curling up at the edge. He looked so small in Scott’s huge bed, so lost and quiet.

As Scott watched him try to get comfortable and finally relax, he vowed he would do anything to get Mitch back on his feet, no matter what came their way. They could do it together. 

They would be Scott and Mitch again. 


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been thinking far too much (and then thinking about thinking too much) these last couple days so here's a tiny look back into the lives of Mitch and Misha before we leave them for good.

He had been the first one to say the words.

He couldn’t remember what exactly had been happening, but Misha had been upset about something. They’d just slipped out.

“This isn’t the Mikhail I fell in love with.”

They’d both frozen.

“You’re in love with me?”

Mitch had been too scared to correct himself. He wasn’t at all sure that he’d meant it; it was way too soon to be making declarations like that. But Misha was calm for the first time in hours and nothing was worth disturbing that peace. “Yes.”

A smile broke across Misha’s face, a wide, white smile that looked out of place next to the tears still drying on his cheeks.

Looking back, Mitch could mark this moment, a minuscule three weeks into the relationship, as the beginning of everything that went wrong, just because of a split second when he hadn’t thought before he spoke.

His words became a weapon against him.

If he didn’t want to go out: “you’re supposed to love me.” If he wanted to wear something different: “c’mon baby, don’t you love me?” When Misha wanted to travel somewhere Mitch didn’t want to go: “if you really loved me, you would want to make me happy.”

It was manageable, so it was fine. Relationships came with sacrifice, and even if he didn’t love Misha yet, he still wanted him to be happy, and he wasn’t asking for _too_ much.

Somewhere along the line, Mitch convinced himself it was true. He loved Misha; this is what love looked like for him. He would gladly do anything if it meant that Misha would never be upset, even if it meant dealing with a little pain along the way.

Mitch shuddered at the feeling of phantom hands leaving shadows of bruises in the shapes of open palms and strong fingers.

“Mitchy?”

Mitch jerked his hands up, instinctively covering his face.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” The concerned voice finally filtered through the haze of memory.

“Scott?”

Blue eyes locked on his in the dark room. “Can I hold you?”

Mitch nodded, pushing his way into Scott’s arms, drawing strength and calmness from the heart beating steadily under his ear.

“What were you thinking about?” Scott whispered, smoothing a hand up and down his back.

“Before.”

The hand on his back paused for a split second before continuing on its path. “I wish I could take it all away.”

“It’s all right. I always have you to pull me out of the memories.”

Scott hummed. “You’ll always have me. I love you, Mitchy.”

Mitch smiled happily.

He knew for sure that what he had with Misha wasn’t love. He had to, knowing what he did now.

This - everything he had with Scott now - this was real love.


End file.
